Finding What You’re Looking For
by Vampbarbie
Summary: Sometimes you think you've found what you were looking for. A Jackcentric fic. Post season 2 Some hints at 'Torchwood'.


A little post-Doomsday Jack fic. It hints at 'Torchwood' as well but only very minorly.

A bit angsty and depressing.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just play here!

* * *

Finding What You're Looking For

I always knew I'd find her, one way or another. But this wasn't how I wanted it to be. Reading the words 'Rose Tyler' right beneath those of 'Jacqueline Tyler' on that list of the dead wasn't what I wanted at all. I had prayed and hoped that I wouldn't find her on that list but I still had to read it. To make absolutely sure. I knew they were there. Where else would they be? Then I read those names and felt that one little link to finding out what has happened to me crumble.

So I stand at the back of the church, keeping my head down so as not to attract too much attention and try to keep it together for long enough to get through this.

The enlarged photograph of Rose and her mother smiles beautifully from beside the altar while people tell me about her. They talk about what a great friend she was and all this stuff that doesn't matter. None of it matters because you're wrong, all of you. You didn't know Rose Tyler. Not really. You didn't see how beautiful she looked dancing in the light of the Blitz bombings. How amazing she was every single day. How brave she really was. How she saved my life…

But I stand there and keep my mouth shut. Because Rose Tyler is dead. One more name on that long long list and one more memorial service. The world won't notice one more dead girl, why should they?

"Goodbye Rose," I murmur softly, mostly to myself, but I know she can hear me. I hope she found more than I did. I don't want her to be alone in that black.

I turn to leave, pulling my long grey great coat tighter around me. Then I catch sight of the man sitting alone in the back pew. Trench coat, pinstriped brown suit, sneakers, shock of brown hair up at all angles. He is staring at the photograph intently, his gaze never wavering for a second. His expression is pure devastation, his eyes are red but dry like he has already done all his crying and can't do anymore. I've never seen him before in my life but he seems eerily familiar. I eye him for a moment more. He's kinda cute. Then I shake the thought away, a funeral is never an appropriate time for that.

I give the man one more look, then glance at my pocket watch. If I hurry I can be back in Cardiff before they even notice I've gone. I don't want any of them anywhere near this. Not a single one of them. Not Owen, or Suzie, or Tosh, or even Ianto. They didn't know her, they never will. If I have my way then they will never even hear of Rose Tyler. I will protect her memory if it means dying for it. Hell they don't know the real me, why should they know her. Pick over her life like vultures searching for clues about me. About who the mysterious Captain Jack Harkness is.

The church doors are heavy but I shut them softly. Rose Tyler deserves to be remembered by her friends. She deserves to be honoured. Of course He hasn't come. I'd gotten there early enough to watch everyone file into the church, scanning every face. He didn't come. How could he not show up here for her? He's gotta keep moving. Always travelling. Even we couldn't slow him down.

* * *

The Doctor looks up, a feeling of being watched niggling at him. But no one is standing there only the slight draft on his neck as the church door rattles in the wind. He could have sworn he saw…no, he didn't. He can't replace Rose with phantom friends from the past. He is alone again. Like always. Maybe it's better this way.

* * *

Captain Jack Harkness turns up the collar of his coat against the cold and shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He hurries down the church steps and heads for where he parked his jeep. He puts his head down against the wind and walks quickly away, letting the wind dry the tears in his eyes. He walks past the old blue police box tucked round a corner of the churchyard without a glance. 


End file.
